Post by x|SHAWN DREAMER|x on Feb 23, 2011 5:52:23 GMT -5
We head backstage and we see the Hardcore Prince, Shawn Dreamer sitting over a crate being in street clothes. His long hairs simply fall over and covers his face as he looks down at the floor. Soon the Hardcore Prince speaks and his cold, calm voice echoes around the empty hall, getting the fans out in the stands to hear him out.
"Dawn of Destruction marked my return to GHW and I've been controversial than ever in the past two weeks. Let's just have a recap - I defeated three simpletons down to make a triumphant, dominant return, I took out El Viento AKA Skull out along with my partner, Kahlan and a new found associate, Dominik Santiago and last week, the Cut Squad went real close... REAL close to win those tag titles from the Jake Diamond's henchmen."
The crowd fires up with boos as Shawn lifts his head up, getting his raven black hair to swing backward. He has a serious look on his face, something that he always bear, but there is a little difference - his hazel eyes are cold, colder than ice.
"Now, I'm not here to brag about what I just did out there. My actions spoke for themselves and they have finally got the attention of all of you in the arena. I'm sure Smarky is currently checking on his clipboard and is thinking of where to put me. But Smark, let me tell you something bro, you should just put me in a place which I deserve. I've expressed my intention, my crave to win the "King of the Deathmatch" title. But the way I see it, you seem to take me lightly. I haven't seen any announcement from you about this one, and I guess you are probably busy crying in loss of your friend."
Shawn hops down from the crate and stands on his heels, before continuing with his words, slowly drawing to the main point of his rant.
"Speaking of the title, I've heard what you had to say Dustin and it was real tough to swallow what you just said out there. I mean, your rap... it was more like a dog's howl though... it was pathetic! You simply didn't know what you were saying back then, and I guess you simply don't know who I'm. I'm the Prince of Hardcore - the man who has been putting his body on the line day in and day out while you were simply getting whipped by the bullies at school. I, Shawn Dreamer, has been stealing shows before you even started watching this shit. Let me tell you something, you are a disgrace to the strap you're holding! You're not even a deathmatch material! You're a fuckin' piece of a junk and you better trust me when I say that."
The crowd breaks out a chant of "Dustin" getting Shawn to shut up for a moment. In their mind, Dustin is more favourite than Shawn, after what he had done in the recent weeks. The chants of the fans simply brings up a sly grin on the side of the lips of the Hardcore Prince, getting the crowd to slowly die.
"Oh, so he's tough eh? I don't know what you would say, but these people are living off your fake audacity. You're nothing but a pipsqueak who is just good on the microphone and evenly talentless in the ring. You don't deserve what you hold and... well, I got a bright idea for you to prove yourself. Face me, face me on the next pay-per-view with the title on the line. Face me in a fuckin' Texas Deathmatch and prove yourself. You haven't been into one as I've heard and I guess the only way you can prove yourself worth is via beating me at your "own game". Smark, hear me out, 'cause if you don't, I'll simply tear apart your and Ryan's star noodle down to piece, whether you book me or not!"
The Floridian Extremist pushes the camera backward, getting it to trip over and capture the ceiling. The footstep of Shawn walking away is heard in the background as the scene slowly fades to black.
EOT
"Dawn of Destruction marked my return to GHW and I've been controversial than ever in the past two weeks. Let's just have a recap - I defeated three simpletons down to make a triumphant, dominant return, I took out El Viento AKA Skull out along with my partner, Kahlan and a new found associate, Dominik Santiago and last week, the Cut Squad went real close... REAL close to win those tag titles from the Jake Diamond's henchmen."
The crowd fires up with boos as Shawn lifts his head up, getting his raven black hair to swing backward. He has a serious look on his face, something that he always bear, but there is a little difference - his hazel eyes are cold, colder than ice.
"Now, I'm not here to brag about what I just did out there. My actions spoke for themselves and they have finally got the attention of all of you in the arena. I'm sure Smarky is currently checking on his clipboard and is thinking of where to put me. But Smark, let me tell you something bro, you should just put me in a place which I deserve. I've expressed my intention, my crave to win the "King of the Deathmatch" title. But the way I see it, you seem to take me lightly. I haven't seen any announcement from you about this one, and I guess you are probably busy crying in loss of your friend."
Shawn hops down from the crate and stands on his heels, before continuing with his words, slowly drawing to the main point of his rant.
"Speaking of the title, I've heard what you had to say Dustin and it was real tough to swallow what you just said out there. I mean, your rap... it was more like a dog's howl though... it was pathetic! You simply didn't know what you were saying back then, and I guess you simply don't know who I'm. I'm the Prince of Hardcore - the man who has been putting his body on the line day in and day out while you were simply getting whipped by the bullies at school. I, Shawn Dreamer, has been stealing shows before you even started watching this shit. Let me tell you something, you are a disgrace to the strap you're holding! You're not even a deathmatch material! You're a fuckin' piece of a junk and you better trust me when I say that."
The crowd breaks out a chant of "Dustin" getting Shawn to shut up for a moment. In their mind, Dustin is more favourite than Shawn, after what he had done in the recent weeks. The chants of the fans simply brings up a sly grin on the side of the lips of the Hardcore Prince, getting the crowd to slowly die.
"Oh, so he's tough eh? I don't know what you would say, but these people are living off your fake audacity. You're nothing but a pipsqueak who is just good on the microphone and evenly talentless in the ring. You don't deserve what you hold and... well, I got a bright idea for you to prove yourself. Face me, face me on the next pay-per-view with the title on the line. Face me in a fuckin' Texas Deathmatch and prove yourself. You haven't been into one as I've heard and I guess the only way you can prove yourself worth is via beating me at your "own game". Smark, hear me out, 'cause if you don't, I'll simply tear apart your and Ryan's star noodle down to piece, whether you book me or not!"
The Floridian Extremist pushes the camera backward, getting it to trip over and capture the ceiling. The footstep of Shawn walking away is heard in the background as the scene slowly fades to black.
EOT
